


Bottle

by orphan_account



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band), Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Coping, Friendship, Gen, Mentioned Kim Hyuna, and im losing my mind, hui is also losing his mind, hyuna/edawn mentioned, set in that weird time, the rest of pentagon is mentioned as well, where we have no idea what cube is doing with hyuna and edawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You know that we’re not going to let you go without a fight, yeah? You’re worth it, and Hyuna-noona is worth it. And no matter what, we’re still going to get mad at you when you put your feet on the table.”Hyojong nodded, holding the bottle to his lips. He pulled it away without taking a drink. “You say that now.”“Hyojong—”“I know. Fighting,” he held up one lazy fist, “and all that.”In which Hwitaek and Hyojong drink too much soju and talk about the future and the past and where they can go from here.





	Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, universe! This is my first time writing kpop fic, and I'm doing it totally anonymously because my usual following may have some issues with RPF and I don't want to anger them quite yet lol. Please kudos/comment, because even though this work is orphaned, I'll be checking in and interacting where I can <3

Hwitaek had never been a big fan of soju, or alcohol in general, really, but Hyojong always brought a bottle to share and there wasn’t much better than getting drunk with your best friend. Hwitaek made a big deal of how much it burned, scrunching his eyes up with every sip and really playing up the following cough.

“How do you like this stuff?”

Hyojong laughed, pulling the bottle from Hwitaek’s hand, and took a sip with a wink. “I guess I like the burn? I don’t know, it never feels too bad.”

“You’re crazy,” Hwitaek said, taking the bottle back for another sip, still with a wince, but with less of a cough. He put it down on the coffee table in front of him and leaned back on the couch, letting the weight of long days pull him down, unsurprised when Hyojong picked it back up and leaned back with him.

Hyojong’s heels thudded down on the edge of the table.

“Hyojong,” he whined, “at least take off your shoes, Hongseok will be mad.”

Hyojong scoffed but handed Hwitaek the soju to unlace his boots. “No one’s allowed to be mad at me anymore, but I do this for you.” He kicked his shoes to the floor and put them back on the table with extra passion, stealing the soju back from Hwitaek mid-sip.

Hwitaek sputtered as Hyojong downed what had to be another few shots before giving it back. Hwitaek took another sip, a smaller one, so wrapped up in Hyojong’s words that he forgot that alcohol was supposed to hurt.

The only lights on in their dorm’s common room this late were the string of Christmas lights that Kino bought and Shinwon had to string up in the corners. It was too late for the overhead lights, everyone else long asleep in their bunks. Hyojong sighed, melting back into the couch. Hwitaek played with the label on the bottle.

“Hyojong?”

“Yes, my dear Hui-hyung?”

“You really think we’re not going to get mad at you when this is all over?”

Hyojong looked down at his socks. “I mean, I don’t know if you’ll have much of a chance to get mad at me when they officially kick me out.” He threw Hwitaek an empty grin. “I’m sure you can’t wait.”

“Hyojong—”

“Sorry,” Hyojong interrupted, “that was in bad taste.” He grabbed the soju back, staring at it like he wanted to take a sip.

“Hyojong?”

“Yes, my dear Hui?” he said again, the cheerful paint chipping away.

“You know that we’re not going to let you go without a fight, yeah? You’re worth it, and Hyuna-noona is worth it. And no matter what, we’re still going to get mad at you when you put your feet on the table.”

Hyojong nodded, holding the bottle to his lips. He pulled it away without taking a drink. “You say that now.”

“Hyojong—”

“I know. _Fighting,_ ” he held up one lazy fist, “and all that.”

Hwitaek grabbed the soju and pushed it to the far side of the table, a little buzz already ringing in the front of his skull. Sitting up on the couch, he turned back towards Hyojong.

“Stop it. You know that whatever happens, I’m not gonna let them kick you out for falling in love. It’s bullshit! None of the others will let you go either, and you  _ know that _ , so stop pretending. We are ten,” Hwitaek slapped Hyojong’s hip where he knew that simple 10 was tattooed, “ we are Pentagon, we’re Triple H, and everything else is bullshit.”

Hwitaek took the bottle with renewed vigor, downed way too much, and pushed it away again before sinking onto the couch next to Hyojong.

Hyojong sighed, reaching over to pat Hwitaek’s shoulder. “That was a good speech, hyung.”

Hwitaek crossed his arms. “I’m a good leader.”

“The best.”

Hwitaek stared up at the ceiling, letting the snores of the other members and the ticking of the clock pull his focus as the world warped to nothing but  _ family _ .

“Hwitaek-ah?”

Hwitaek hummed.

“Jinho was a trainee for eight years. Hongseok has tried before, too, and all of the maknae ar still so excited… Pentagon is their everything.”

“I know. That’s why—”

“Shut up, hyung, I have to say this.” Hwitaek’s eyes burned, his throat burned, but he swallowed his words and let Hyojong talk.

“You guys can survive without me. Just look at this comeback. Everyone is doing so well.”

Hwitaek sat up. “But—”

Hyojong slapped the accusing finger Hwitaek had brought up. “And you’re going to keep doing well without me. It’s not fair to bring everything down for me, Hwitaek-ah, you idiot. Hyuna and I will be fine but you’re  _ their  _ leader first, my best friend second, you know?”

“I’m also supposed to be your leader.”

Hyojong laughed. “And Hyuna is supposed to be your leader, and I’m pretty sure she’s on my side on this one.”

Hwitaek huffed and reached over Hyojong’s feet to grab the soju. “She’s always right, isn’t she?”

Hwitaek sat on the edge of the couch, bottle in hand, and took a sip before he turned back to Hyojong. “I can’t be ‘Single H’ and Pentagon was always supposed to be ten.”

Hyojong shrugged. “Have you seen yourself perform? Hui will take the world by storm, I know it, and Pentagon is so much more than just me. It’s you, it’s all of you, and you know you can do it without me.”

Hwitaek pulled the label off of the bottle. “And what if I don’t want to do it without you?”

“Hwitaek-ah—”

“No, it’s my turn. I’m talking now.” He put the bottle to his lips and tilted back, letting the soju slide down his throat. He would never like the burn. He slammed it back on the table with a wince. “You remember all the games they made us play on Pentagon Maker? They should have sucked. It should have been hard or awkward but damn it, Pentagon Maker was  _ fun _ , because it was us! The ten of us, best friends versus the world. It really was, up until they started kicking people out. Do you know what that’s like? I’m supposed to be a leader but then some guy in a suit comes in and starts telling me one by one that my friends, my  _ family _ aren’t good enough. You remember!” He pointed a finger at Hyojong, a sway to his movements. 

“And they wanted to kick out you? But you’re my best friend!” He gestured between them. “We’re Huidawn and we were going to take over the world!” He threw his arms out, feeling the moment, the alcohol in his veins pulsing like lights.

“Hyung—”

“And now you want me to just lay down and let it happen? Hyojong-ah, you are my  _ best friend _ . i can’t let you go. It’s my job as a leader to keep you safe. I promised.”

Hwitaek fell back against the couch, focus shifting from Hyojong to any of the random colorful items behind him, soju doing its work.

“You know who else you made that promise to?”

Hwitaek hummed, looking at the wall behind him.

“There are seven other members here, asleep if you didn’t just wake them up with your yelling, who spent all day doing promotions that are taking their toll, and Yan An is fighting his own battles. You promised to keep them all safe.”

“But Hyojong—”

“I will still be your best friend, even if I’m not in Pentagon.”

Hwitaek’s heart pulsed in his chest.

“And Pentagon will still be Pentagon when I’m not there.”

Hwitaek sighed, finally making eye contact with Hyojong. “I don’t like it.”

Hyojong grabbed Hwitaek’s hand, lying limp on the couch, and Hwitaek found the strength to grab back. “I don’t like it either, but you need to be ready. For me.”

Hwitaek blinked away the sting in his eyes. “For you?”

Hyojong shook his head. “No. For them. For the kids who have put their all into this and are finally,  _ finally _ living their dreams.”

Hwitaek nodded. “For them.”

Hwitaek shuffled closer and leaned his head against Hyojong’s shoulder, giving his hand another squeeze before closing his eyes. 

“Soju is powerful.”

Hyojong laughed, Hwitaek joining him without knowing why. “You’re just bad at holding your booze.”

“Maybe.”

Hyojong shoved Hwitaek with a shoulder, head falling on top of his. “Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it.”

“I know I will.”


End file.
